~ Before Human Thought ~

Imagine this earth before any living today can speak of.
It is the elements that have always been.
Mountains eroding slowly to the beach as grains of sand.
Imagine this earth as it was before.
When the air has an unrealized fragrance .
When birds awoke to the same sun, nightingales sang lullabies under a moonlit sky.
Waves washed ashore seeding another beachhead with treasures from a distant land.
The stars in the skies were farther.
Life moved with this rhythm becoming with the dark then waking with light reaching into the blue .
And here I sit writing a thought of spirit not a philosophy.
There were eclipses seen by the tall grasses, they seeded back into their earth, their meadow sent a collective wave of colour to an evening of stars.
Then somewhere a lake reflecting a world speaks of the rain~ memory of being taken inside by the tongue quenching a thirst then purring through emerald eyes under a canopy sky, full of stars.
Sighing, the lake reflects another sentient piece of earth skyward.
And here, we are in wonder of what remains encoded.
In our bodies, as memories, finding another that understands, gifting a puzzle piece into your palms.
This picture familiar so clear mercurial and alive. Goosebumps rise when we sigh into a starry night .


Remains this Day

this evening inner warmth,
beneath such crystalline shimmering stars.
pulsing exhale of a thought taken by a chilly breeze.
A whisper, a story once again, beheld within earths being.
Moon comes milky seeding evening east glow.
Crimson mars, dolphin to the ship of the moon,
together sky the western side of night stream.
Somewhere inside a memory today
I watched clouds holding the aqua blue sky hostage,
forever in my moments gaze.
Sometimes I hear a voice that beckons away another reality.
later guides my breath back to the sky.
this mind becomes pictured, drawn the moments
palette of sky thoughtless now,
a soul remains like a spiral shell
cast upon this shore shimmering
This spell dose of beauty.
this dormant place the awoken inside wonder,
remains of trails twine like our fingers braided pulse
recall that once thoughts placed mind into letters,
treasured away inside a forgotten star box,
whose legs carved form an anima to the constellations
Inside where butterflies talk,
pattern new to wolf spider tracing what the clouds were doing,
her glisten of silk a line patterned a touch closer.
Thought became the evenings trunk of the giant oak,
that leans upward to the stars.
that whispered my mind,
to how they hold the stars into earth.

Drop of the Tear


Awaking from dream inside an opening eye, this place between, floating upon the sea of sleep, yet not released from the cocoon of sleep. Immediate echo of an etherial song bird, pronouncing a sunlight justly. Listened to this before, this prescience of thought catches up, gathering the decades which this bird remembered, holding a songs memory, a clarity of notes piercing dawn. For the sunrise is ancient, just a stream of moments, this is another melody timeless.
Raindrops sing like a tide does coming ashore, listen just to their descending chorus. For every drop of rain once was in your body, each half of infinity rained together gave many lifetimes to remember you have been here before and before and before. Here you listen to held memories on the song of rain, a spell timeless, together with the red beak of memory and the subtle chime of rainfall. For this dawn is ancient, awash of moments inside the melody of timelessness.
Taste your lovers tear, awakened by the etherial song bird, be carried to a salty ocean shore when placed to your lips. Each drop down the cheek holds a capsule of memory, a microcosm of lifetimes.
Stories told that once spiraled glass vials were crafted to hold the salty tears of happiness and pools of rainwater held exotic fishes that would pollinate the flowers that bent near the surface. Where the sunrise is ancient and the etherial bird sings of another stream of moments.

4 – 6 – 2014

~ the bowl of a quarter moon ~

There is no good night.
below a moon that is hidden by the horizon.
there was a shadow near, spilled from this quarter moon
uncurling her crescent bowl filling evening cool within a selene glow, suspended slow motion of every passing star cluster.
There must be names, none living today can place into words.
No voices to speak this past, memory will cast moons light,
shadows animate minds spellbound upon this earthly shore,
this bowl of a quarter moon, fashioned from opaline materials of earth.
Vespertine dews filled this bowl, an microcosm ancient symbol of earth etched then blended upon the bowl holding a moon
of liquid rippling the mirroring stars reflecting into the half moon cupped in your palms.
Mercurial the waxing crescent that cast light into shadow,
gesture of infinity quenches a thirst as earth tilts the bowl.
moon dresses the horizon, sewn lapis sky pinned beside her tinted rim.
here dreams sleep, stitch of shadows swirls round,
memories liquid as clouds.
horsetails clouds that circle a stirring sky
held timeless entranced upon the bowl of a quarter moon
becoming the gazer that wonders.
There is no good night to the sleepless.
here only night and day play a lullaby
with a moon setting vespertine shadow of dreams.
For if we sleep :
convince our souls to fall and rise deeply inside this bowl of the moon . beauty will ride a winged horse spurred from the wisps
of twilight clouds, gathering dreamers to ride to the milky way.
There is no word for good night.
just a lullaby of anima nocturnal.
a bowl turned from earthly stone,
filled with a moon cycles of dew.
hands cupped warming upon a surface of stars.
for theres no sleep for the dreamer.

December – 28

~ When the night bird sings ~

Wishing you a restful sleep full of dreams
walking on this beach looking to our side
here watching colourful birds fly to the top of the golden pyramids while we count moons reflecting, upon the tides sweep to the shore.

Another earth around our red disk, when sets a night full of stars then awakens reflections that ripple ashore
for we know our walk along this shore
the song of awakening this hush of nightfall.

And the I, between of being human.

Wishing you a restful dream as night closes her golden breath
connecting the points we have arranged
stars casting patterns, this anima of being
we know tonight why the night bird sings.

10 – 7 – 14

~ Sometimes I sense another ~

Are you gazing at the stars.
I went outside, this feeling with another, a vault of stars, scrying into a bestirring pool. refreshing call dispels chatter which humans undo beauty.
Refreshed to listening
pulse of night swaying waver – ring strummed, sung to stars infinite high.
breathing beside another, exhales lift to irresistible stars .
I travel round then round till tonights stars call my body outside.
these stars were once the day stars covered by light above the clouds meander,
seeking the other side of twilight earth.
Australian night stars dream of polar stars unseen.
slow turning earth beside another sun sets this dreamtime sailing a rhythmic movement .
it is just the tilting of earth, that pace this sun coming up.
Then likewise down upon horizontal landmarks
take my hand and grow old with mine in this linear time
Stars are forever with moon glowing through centuries.
Stones that shimmer into our atmosphere, delivering wakes of colour,
rippling this short life. Indicating a point in time,
past rhythms come to startle a dream, awaking another reality.
Another body, gazing another sky filled pallet of colouring stars
take my hand
fold this ripple timeless under the stars .

10 -5 – 12